As Always, He's Reading Into it Too Much
by That Kid With the Long Coat
Summary: John starts writing short stories. Sherlock starts reading them, and comes to some realisations. Or is he reading into it too much? A Valentine's fic that I'm posting early, since I despise the day. Enjoy. Rated because I'm too paranoid to rate anything K. Romance added as a genre because I don't even know what this is.


_Fuck, I hate Valentines Day. That being said, guess who missed it last year? Next question, who pulled this story out of her arse because she realised that Valentine's is on Thursday, and since she knows she'll be filled with loathing on that particular day, she decided to publish early?_

_Oh, did you guess me! Good for you, have some cyber-biscuits!_

_Anyways, enjoy my lovelies._

* * *

John had been writing lately, Sherlock noted. And not about him. Oh no, John had started what looked like an array of short stories about two girls, with normal names and normal lives - the complete opposite of themselves.

There were some about them just going about their daily lives, the looks they gave each other, the jokes they told. How they sat just a little closer to each other than they should. How they laughed a little too loud in public and maybe spent a little too much time in the cinema after the film was over.

The more Sherlock read these stories, unbeknownst to John, the more he found parallels between them and well, _them _(being Sherlock and John).

The way the temperament of Anne's eyes strangely matched his, as did the paleness of her skin, her long fingers. How Carmen's demeanor, straight down to a saint-like patience that thinly veiled overwhelming stress, reflected John's so perfectly. Hell, how Anne was three inches taller than her best friend.

Of course, Sherlock didn't rule out that maybe it was merely coincidence - most tend to write about those close to them, and events they've actually experienced in one way or another without necessarily meaning to. So he ignored it, and kept following these characters John had made in this little world.

Then… something happened.

It was the eleventh of February, a particularly blustery day, if Sherlock remembered correctly (which he always did). John had typed up a new chapter, then pushed away from the table to take a shower. Sherlock took the half-hour opportunity he had to skim through it. He sipped some of the tea John had left in his mug (cold, but still refreshing, chamomile, he noted).

The basic plot was a Valentine's one, not surprising in the least, the accursed day was too close for comfort. Sherlock could feel chocolates and pink hearts suffocating him already. Carmen (whom Sherlock had decided was John in this parallel universe) had written Anne (quite similar to Sherlock, though she wasn't as intelligent, and was more warm-hearted instead of ice-cold) a letter, stating that their friendship had evolved into something more. Carmen went on to list all the little things Anne did when she thought the other wasn't looking. How they'd gotten so close they could communicate without talking. Apparently, this was Anne's least favourite part of the year as well, and Carmen's reasoning for writing was to try and fix that. By saying that she loved her.

After that, Sherlock read something about the whole thing being wrong, somethingabout "don't leave me", something about "no matter what I'll always love you, I hope you love me too" nonsense. Rubbish, complete rubbish.

Until he thought about something.

If this was a parallel of their lives, then…

Oh God, did John have feelings for him?

Is that what this was supposed to be? All these stories, these girls, their lives-

Sherlock stopped everything then, ignored the shower water turning off - he had at least ten more minutes - and went back through everything. He started picking everything apart, noting when things were written, trying to remember what had happened in _their_ world, the real world, in relation to it. Little things, things he had thought were innocent enough, suddenly became red flags and beacons - in both worlds. He could feel his brow furrowing low over his eyes as he read.

_Was this…_

No. Of course not. Even though the detective in him screamed that the signs all pointed to it, it couldn't possibly be true. He was twisting the facts and taking the ones he liked, forcing them to point to the outcome he found most favorable. _Take away the impossible, and whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be true._

Impossible: John loved him.

There was no way. For one, he was heterosexual. He was always saying that he wasn't gay, telling everyone they weren't a couple. Two… well, it was impossible. Who could love a man like Sherlock Holmes? He would be lucky to have a friend even remotely like John, let alone actually have John as a friend.

So the facts, no matter how much Sherlock hated it, the taste it left on his tongue as he whispered to himself, words biting his ears, obviously pointed to the very real reality that he was reading into this too much. This was just John writing. Nothing more. No hidden meaning. Things were exactly as they seemed in 221B, _nothing more_.

Sherlock sat for a little longer at the table in silence, just staring at the screen, Carmen's confession blurring together into an ugly mess that hurt his eyes. He prayed for the cogs in his brain to stop turning so quickly, to slow down; he prayed for his heart (who even knew he had one?) to calm, to stop beating so fast, to be rational.

John walked in a little later, clad in a blue bathrobe, somewhat akin to one of Sherlock's dressing gowns, toweling his damp hair. Sherlock looked up, smirking at how curly John's hair gets when it's wet. John noticed, smiling back.

He headed up the stairs to his room, and Sherlock tried not to stare at his arse as he did (_damn it, _he had a reputation to uphold!). Before he reached the second step, though, John turned, meeting surprised blue eyes.

"How did you like the new chapter?" he asked, smile playing with the corners of his lips before he continued on his way to dress fully.

For once, Sherlock didn't know what to say.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, it's basically established that Sherlock has already fallen for John over the course of reading his stories.

Also, be on the look-out for the new Out of my Element chapter! It will be up shortly (this actually interrupted it... damn Valentine's Day).


End file.
